Too Many Goodbyes, Too few Hellos
by hopezen
Summary: Where There's a Will inspired fanfic


Hey there all, well I accually finished one! Yay! "Where There's a Will" was the catalyst (yes, I know everyone writes about that one); it takes place after the time of the episode. I hope you enjoy it.  
  
Disclamer: I in no way own any of the characters or ideas of the show, M*A*S*H. I was only inspired by the great stories and people dramatized in the show.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The phones had been out for two days at the aid station. The officers were overwhelmed with worry. BJ was hounding Colonel Potter and Klinger to do something. Charles over looked the situation. Potter was calling every thread he knew. Mulcahy was trying to cheer everyone up. Klinger was scavenging for any rumor he could muster. And Margaret was keeping herself busy while still ignoring the camp. They wanted to get some news, any news. There wasn't any word, or even a whisper about Hawkeye.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"I asked you all here because this came from I-COR this morning," Colonel Potter held the letter like a bomb.  
  
BJ, Charles, Klinger, Margaret, and Father Mulcahy sat in the CO's office. Their hearts sank when they saw the Colonel's white face. They knew what the letter was. The only thought that consoled them was that at least they now knew.  
  
"It's about Hawkeye," he cleared his throat. Hopefully he could read it without tears. "The aid station was destroyed by a shell. A medic found his jacket and his dog tags," the items were sitting ordered on his desk, "Hawkeye didn't make it," he summed it all up.  
  
The world stopped turning; everything had frozen over; the room was still. It wasn't a surprise, but it still cut into them with a deep grief. Their faces were muldaine and stagnant. Their eyes were bright with tears, but concentrated and lifeless.  
  
"I was reviewing his file earlier. I found some surprising papers," Potter figured now was as good as any time to continue. "A letter for Margaret, a letter for his father, a packet for BJ, and a will," they all looked up at him, all except for Margaret. They were surprised he even had one. "You're all a part of it, so I see nothing wrong you all hearing it," he cleared his throat again. The last time he read it, he felt like a little child crying onto his sleeve.  
  
"I Benjamin Franklin Pierce, being of sound mind and endangered body, hereby decree this to be my last will and testament. I bequeath to my father all my worldly possessions with the exception of the following:  
  
"To Charles Emerson Winchester III, During the dark days of war made himself available. You've been the victim of a ceaseless stream of dumb jokes. Though we may have wounded your pride, you've never lost your dignity. So I therefore bequeath the most dignified thing I own - my bathrobe. Purple is the color of royalty." Charles heard the honesty that was Hawkeye Pierce. He felt honored knowing of what the man thought of him.  
  
"To Father Frances Mulcahy, I leave five cents. You're a man of God; I know worldly possessions mean little to you, Father. So I leave you a nickel along with something I value over anything I own, my everlasting respect." Father Mulcahy had a saddened smile on his face. He felt pride by what Hawkeye had chosen for him to have.  
  
"To Margaret Houlihan, To you Margaret, I leave my treasured Groucho nose and glasses. Maybe they'll remind you how much I enjoyed that silly side you showed all too infrequently." She had the making of a smile, but she was crying inside and refused to let it show; that took all her concentration. Tears were streaming down her face; there wouldn't be if she could help it. When she was laughing with Hawkeye she felt light and whole. He brought out the best in her.  
  
"To Sherman Potter," This was the part that pulled the older man's heart the most, "You not only knew what to say but what not to say; my Dad is a lot like that. It makes me miss him a little less knowing you're around. My father called me Hawkeye after the character in The Last of the Mohawks. It's his favorite book; I'd like you to have the copy he gave me." Colonel Potter felt a high distinction of honor to be placed on a pedestal to Hawkeye's father. He never met Dr. Pierce, but he knew that father and son shared a strong-based relationship.  
  
"To Maxwell Q. Klinger, And you may be one of the all time scroungers but when it comes right down to it, you'd give a friend the shirt off your back. So the least I can do is give you the shirt off mine, and not just any shirt, but my beloved Hawaiian shirt. I hope you wear it even if it does go out of style." Klinger remembered how often Hawkeye wore that shirt. He had a grin on his face. No matter how irritable or obnoxious Hawkeye got, he was a great guy.  
  
"To Erin Hunnicutt, I leave you a list of all the young men your daddy took care of while he was in Korea. Many of them have him to thank for being alive today. I want you to understand why he had to be away during those first years of your life. I hope I have the chance to give this to you in person, but around here you never know." Potter chocked as he handed the packet of papers over to BJ. "This concludes my last will and testament. Signed Benjamin Franklin Pierce."  
  
"I can't believe he did this," a misty eyed BJ looked at the packet his best friend put together for his daughter.  
  
"Margaret, this is between you and Hawkeye," Potter handed her the letter. She held it like it was a thin piece of glass that would break at the slightest movement. She kept silent. Her thoughts were moving so quickly that she couldn't keep up.  
  
"This should go with an explanation," Potter had the letter meant for Hawkeye's father. He looked at BJ to volunteer.  
  
"Yeah, sure," BJ said still engrossed with the thought of Hawkeye being dead.  
  
"In about fifteen minutes, I'm going to announce it to the whole camp. I'd appreciate if you keep this amongst yourselves until then. I don't want it to be regarded as a rumor. Dismissed."  
  
They all left quietly in their own thoughts, excluding Margaret. She was sitting in her chair sill holding the letter in her hands. There was so much that could be held in that paper envelope. Hawkeye become her best friend and so much more and now he was gone. She was trying to figure out what she was going to do without him.  
  
"Major?" Colonel Potter was concerned with her withdrawal.  
  
"Yes sir," she said it as if she was complying to an order. It was enough to bring her out of it (sort of) and she went to her tent.  
  
As she walked, she plummeted into her own dispiare. She had to run to her tent so no one would see her. She rushed into her tent; as soon as she pulled the door shut, she sank to the floor. She let all her emotions come out. She cried violently as she tried to cope with the news.  
  
Hawkeye was her best friend. He knew things about her that even she didn't. He was her lifeline when she was divorcing Donald. He knew her deepest fears. He'd seen her cry - really cry. She hadn't cried in front of anyone before. There was just something about him that she could trust. He was so easy to talk with. He made her laugh; sometimes she didn't want to laugh at some of the things that came out of his mouth, but his humor made something in her light up. That light had gotten so bright that it started coming out in her. She had become more lighthearted and open. She was the freest with him around, but she felt comfortable joking with others too. Hawkeye did all that for her. He may not have known it, but he did. And now he was now and forever gone. There was not another soul in camp, in the world that would light her up like he did.  
  
Her world was crashing down on top of her as she thought of him. She was rocking with her breaths. She felt like a lost child in the middle of a huge city. She felt the same way when she and Hawkeye were in that abandoned hut, but he wasn't there to hold her. She felt the same way when shells were being thrust upon her, but he wasn't there to make jokes as they played 'twenty questions'. She was alone.  
  
Her eyes were burning. She had shed so many tears that she didn't have any left. Her heart wanted to keep going, but her physiology wouldn't let her. She had stopped shaking and she was getting the feeling back in her legs. She wanted it all to be a bad dream, something she imagined, thoughts that could easily be forgotten in an instant, but it wasn't. It was something she would have to accept and live the rest of her life with. Then she realized she had the letter he wrote for her.  
  
A single letter could be all she had left of him. A letter that he had put in his file to be found if something happened to him for her. She had no idea when it was written or what it could say. She just opened it; she had to know what it said. "Dear Margaret, If you're reading this, something must have happened to me. I really hope we're home and not still stuck in Korea, but since that probably isn't the case, I wanted you to know that the past few months have been the best in my life. Even with bombs falling and kids bleeding on us, I have been happy. It doesn't seem right, but I can't deny it. You make the war, the death, the destruction go away. I don't know how to thank you for that. I was going to take a lifetime to find out, but now I can't.  
  
"That week we spent in Tokyo for the 'medical conference', was amazing. We went as two friends looking for a good time at every party we could hit to a man and woman in love becoming husband and wife. Whenever the war makes itself apparent, all I have to do is remember us walking through the cherry blossoms with you holding a handkerchief to my bleeding nose. It always brings a humored, yet warm smile to my face. I wanted to give you a real wedding when we got home. Your dad would walk you down the aisle, giving me an evil glair the whole way. Everyone we know would have been there. We would go on a real honeymoon, maybe to Paris or Rome.  
  
"Margaret, I know you're hurting and I can only imagine what you're going through. You can't hold it in. I know you too well. You won't let anyone see you cry. I'd love nothing else than to be there to holding you, letting you cry on my shoulder, but there are other people there. There's Colonel Potter, Father Mulcahy, BJ, Klinger, even Charles and Dad is only a phone call away. Talk to somebody, anybody, just don't let it sit in you. You're not alone. I'll be watching over you.  
  
"I love you Take care of you yourself, Mrs. Pierce." She had a choking smile on her face. The letter saddened her even more, but it did relive some of the grief. The memory of being in Tokyo was always a favorite of hers too. A real wedding with her in a white dress would have been an absolute dream, but now it all was. He was always showing her that Life magazine; he would rant about how great Crabapple Cove was. It just wasn't fair.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"I thought Major Houlihan was on duty this mornin'," Colonel Potter was hoping to see her. He was a bit worried; he hadn't seen her since the day before. He wasn't sure how she took the news.  
  
"She was sir, but, ah, she's not feeling well," the nurse covered for her. All the nurses knew that there was something going on between the head nurse and chief surgeon, but somehow none of the men seemed to notice it. They knew she would be taking it very hard, so they all decided to cover for her.  
  
Potter only 'humph'ed at her answer. He'd never seen Margaret too sick to report for duty. He wanted to check on her.  
  
He started to her tent, when BJ and Charles caught his eye in the Swamp. They were going through Hawkeye's things.  
  
"How are you boys doin'?"  
  
"As well as could be expected, Colonel," Charles said depressed.  
  
"Have either one of you seen Major Houlihan?"  
  
"Not since yesterday morning," BJ was even more negative, "She's probably rushing around Post-Op forgetting him as we speak."  
  
"Yeah, well she seems to be 'too under the weather' to show up for duty," that got their attention.  
  
"Attila the Hun, not show up for duty?" Charles remarked.  
  
"I don't think you boys are giving the Major credit," he wasn't happy about the way they were characterizing her, "I think she's just as upset as you are Hunnicutt. She lost a friend too, you know."  
  
"She sure doesn't act like she did. Thinking herself too high and mighty to possibly get a letter from him. She barely touched it. He didn't give the rest of us a letters!" BJ blew up.  
  
Charles sat there. He felt the same way BJ did. She didn't seem at all grateful at the works Hawkeye wrote for her in his will. She was the only one person not in the mess tent when Potter shocked everybody.  
  
"BJ, you don't know what that girl was thinking," Potter defended her.  
  
"Hawk kept saying how much she's changed. She hasn't; she's still as cold and unfeeling as the first time I met her. If she was his friend she'd be here telling us something, wouldn't she!?!"  
  
Margaret turned on her heels and went straight to Klinger's office. She had heard every word BJ said. She was going to go talk with them like Hawkeye had told her to. She did need to talk to somebody, and she figured BJ would be the one who would listen and comfort her the most.  
  
"Klinger," she burst into the room.  
  
"You wailed, Major?" he checked his ears with a finger.  
  
"Klinger, I need some resignation papers."  
  
"You and everyone else, Major," he was in a sulky mood. It took him a while to realize who he was talking to. "What for?"  
  
"Just get them," she ordered him. She didn't want to explain it to anyone. She felt so guilty about it.  
  
"Yes ma'am," he saw the glair in her eyes. He hurried to get them together. "Um, Major, I can't give you these until the Colonel approves them."  
  
"I don't care," she took them from him and went back towards the door. She pushed it forward and felt a thud. It was Father Mulcahy. She huffed and kept going.  
  
"Is everything alright?" he asked Klinger rubbing his forehead. He had never seen Margaret so standoffish.  
  
"I don't think so, she just stole discharge papers."  
  
"Oh my. Whatever for?"  
  
"She wouldn't say. She just grabbed 'em and took off," he went to go find Colonel Potter.  
  
Mulcahy was right behind him. They quickly noticed him in the Swamp talking with the glum doctors.  
  
"Boys everyone deals with things their own ways," Colonel Potter was interrupted by Klinger and Mulcahy.  
  
"Sir, Major Houlihan just took resignation papers."  
  
Potter swallowed a sigh. He had a concentrative look on his face. The information took all of them back.  
  
Father Mulcahy spotted something in the bottom of Hawkeye's footlocker. It was buried under some stacks of papers. It was a small stack of pictures. He picked them up out of the collected letters from his father. He began to look through them. "Well I'll be," he commented looking at them.  
  
"What, Padre?"  
  
"Look," he handed over the few pictures.  
  
"It seems to me that they were friends, Hunnicutt," Potter handed the pictures over.  
  
"Where did these come from?" he looked at them. It was Hawkeye and Margaret; they were at some party in Tokyo. They were laughing in every one.  
  
"The bottom of his footlocker," Mulcahy answered.  
  
"Sure does look like their having a good time," Klinger noted, peeking over BJ's shoulder.  
  
BJ didn't say anything. He had never seen them before. He couldn't even remember them being in Tokyo together.  
  
"One of us should go talk with her," the men sat there looking to one another to volunteer. It was one of the things Hawkeye wouldn't have hesitated doing.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
Margaret was filling out the papers. She filled in every line with every detail. She didn't care who signed them. She didn't plan on staying there a minute longer than she had to. She needed to go back to the states. She planned on calling Daniel; she had only talked to him a few times before. They had exchanged a couple of letters. She could tell how much of the man rubbed off on his son. He needed to know everything that had happened.  
  
She was flipping through her regulations manual when someone started to knock on her door.  
  
"I'm busy right now," she said as polite as her annoyed mood would let her.  
  
"Major, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind." Father Mulcahy slurred. He hadn't gotten that far. He went ahead and volunteered, but now he wish he didn't. ".if we talked a bit."  
  
"Father, please, I am very busy," she wanted him to go away. The letter was sitting on her desk. It was folded open. The sides were becoming dirty and there were tear stains running some of the words. She must have read it a million times since she got. The part of talking to someone caught her eye. She had to swallow, and decided she better or she would leave the closest family she had angry and without an explanation. "Father, wait," she went to the door and invited him in.  
  
"Ah, thank you, Major," he took the seat she was offering. "Yes, well, um, oh yes."  
  
"Please, Father, I think I know why you're here," she couldn't listen to him spill out words. "I'm sorry about earlier, the door. I hope I didn't hurt you."  
  
"Oh, no Major, I believe my hat suffered the worst of it," he gave a little smile. It did hurt, but not much and he didn't want to burden her about it.  
  
She returned his smile. It was weak, but it was a smile.  
  
"I thought I'd bring you the Groucho glasses," he handed them over to her. She took them very delicately. "And these were found in Hawkeye's footlocker," he gave her the pictures as well. He saw her face sink at the sight of them.  
  
They were from the medical conference in Tokyo. They were supposed to be getting lectures the whole week and a half, but they only went to the first two. That second night they went to a party, and the rest was history. She hadn't looked at them in a while. The last time she did, she had a funny feeling.  
  
"Major?" Father Mulcahy wanted for her to tell him why she was behaving so odd.  
  
"I remember, like it was yesterday. Oh, we had so much fun that week," she couldn't take her eyes off of them. "Father," she began slowly, "they're not outside my door are they?"  
  
"No, this is between you and me. Klinger tells me you took some resignation papers," he figured this was as good a time as any.  
  
"Yes, I did," she said confidently, "and I plan to get out of here as soon as I can," she said spiteful.  
  
"May I ask."  
  
"We were in Tokyo for the medical conference six months ago," she lifted up the pictures. "There were so many people at that party. It was on a beautiful boat. It was sitting in the harbor with a view of a lovely garden full of cherry blossoms. They were blooming. It was gorgeous."  
  
Father Mulcahy listened. He didn't want to rush things, something that made him such a good listener. He watched her look at the pictures with such fondness. Where him and the others seemed to see only them, she saw memories of one of the greatest men they had ever known.  
  
"An hour after he went to that God-forsaken aid station, I was on a jeep to Seoul. I feel so guilty. I wanted to be sure before I told him, and I didn't want to worry him. I told Colonel Potter I wanted to get some things for my nurses. I lied through my teeth," she felt sorry for lying to the Colonel, and even worse for not telling Hawkeye.  
  
"You had no idea what would have happened. You shouldn't feel guilty, you would have told him when he got back."  
  
"Father, I'm pregnant," her chest began to rise and fall with the force of every breath.  
  
"Well, aren't congratulations in order?" he was rejoiced that there was going to be renewed life, but he didn't react that way. He was going with Margaret's lead.  
  
"I was thrilled when I found out. I was trying to keep busy in Post-Op so I wouldn't be blinding people with my smile," she thought that was the stupidest thing anyone had ever said. "But then, Hawkeye was gone. Just gone. I didn't even get to say goodbye to him," tears were collecting on her chin.  
  
"We were all taken aback when we heard of Hawkeye's death, Margaret," he had never called her that before. He wasn't really sure where she was going with all of this.  
  
She pulled a small box out of the top drawer of her desk. She took off the lid and scrambled through a few things she had collected over the years. "Here are the rest of the pictures. He didn't want BJ and Charles to find them," she gave him the rest of them.  
  
These were almost the same pictures, except they were putting rings on each other's finger and kissing under an alter. The small chapel wasn't much to look at, but it was charming in its own way.  
  
"The photographer was one of our witnesses," she laughed about it with a frog in her throat.  
  
It was hard for Mulcahy to picture the two of them married. He thought them nothing but friends, good friends; good friends that were there for always there for each other. The friendship must have evolved right under their noses.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
They talked all afternoon. That evening was Hawkeye's memorial service. Father Mulcahy gave a beautiful speech about the work he did, not just in the operating room but how he was always there to boost the camps moral. He talked about how he touched all of them and gave them some hope. He was looking at Margaret during most of it. She was holding her hands close to her stomach. BJ also gave a fine speech. He told stories of the pranks pulled by him, and on him. He felt bad about what he had said about Margaret; he didn't know how she took the blow of Hawkeye's death. He saw her crying; he had never seen her cry before.  
  
BJ caught her before she could go back to her tent where she had been hiding herself for the past couple of days. "Margaret, wait,"  
  
"Leave me alone, BJ," he was the last person she wanted to tell personally. He made her so mad the day before. He was one of her closest friends, but she couldn't bear to tell him.  
  
"Hey, I just wanted to apologize, I've been mad and I let it be towards you when it wasn't. I'm sorry,"  
  
"I don't need to hear this right now," she was using every force of her body not to break down.  
  
"Margaret, are you alright?" he could tell she was exhausted. She had been avoiding everyone in camp. She had talked with Father Mulcahy, but he refused to tell them.  
  
"Oh, just leave me alone," she stomped away.  
  
As she left him standing there, she thought about what Hawkeye had told her. She should have told BJ, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The whole thing was so confusing; she barely understood it.  
  
She left him standing there. He was more confused than he had been before. He could tell something was really troubling her. He wished he knew. He had tried to get Father Mulcahy to tell him what she had told him, but he refused and told him that he couldn't. BJ understood that he couldn't break his oath of confidence, yet he so desperately wanted to know what was wrong with her.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
Margaret most defiantly didn't want to tell anyone else, not right away. The Father promised to get her papers for discharge in order. The only problem was that she would have to tell Colonel Potter for them to get processed. She went ahead and did it. She only told him that she was pregnant and gave him the diagnosis made by Dr. Webster in Seoul. She couldn't tell him anything else. It was hard enough explaining it to Father Mulcahy. She asked the Colonel to keep quiet about it and her return home. They both pulled some strings, though it was hard without Klinger's help on the phones, and got her a flight out the next day.  
  
She had the Colonel give her permission to use the phone. She called Daniel. He hadn't heard yet. The conversation was hard on the both of them. She told him what happened, and her situation. He gladly agreed for her to come and stay with him. He liked her, and the way Hawkeye described her and spoke of her was so loving and passionate. He couldn't turn out his daughter-in-law and grandchild.  
  
She packed everything in her tent. She even managed to get his ring off his dog tags, with Father Mulcahy's help. They kept them there so they wouldn't have to remove them in surgery and they were better hidden.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Thank you, Father, for everything," she hugged him. It was early in the morning and they seemed to be the only ones up and about. She had said her goodbyes in a long, carefully worded letter that she gave to Father Mulcahy; she told them about her and Hawkeye, the baby, and so many other things. She even had little letters for them personally.  
  
"Go in peace," he blessed her, "and do tell us when the little one comes, Heaven forbid that we be here that much longer."  
  
She could only give him a grateful smile and another hug, "Promise to tell them today if you can. I want them to know why."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Alright, I'm ready, let's go," she ordered her driver. She looked back until the camp was out of sight. It had been her home for almost three years. She had been married, divorced, reborn, married, mothered, and widowed there. The people there had become her dear friends, they were like family. She already missed them.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Father, is there a point for us being here this early?" Charles whined.  
  
"Yes, there is a very good reason, Major. As you have probably noticed there is someone missing from this meeting," he noticed all of them realizing that Margaret wasn't there. "Major Houlihan is probably sitting in Seoul waiting for a flight to Tokyo and then to the states."  
  
"The states? You mean she got her discharge? How?" Klinger didn't understand it. She was an Army nurse through and through.  
  
"Padre, do you know what you're doing?" Colonel Potter asked knowing full well she wanted to keep it a secret.  
  
"Please, Colonel," he wanted to get through this discussion. "Yes, she got her discharge. We were wondering why she was isolating herself, and it is for the same reason she's going home."  
  
"How on earth did Margaret get a discharge?" BJ was a little sour about what happened the night before.  
  
"Major Margaret Houlihan," he omitted Pierce, not thinking they were ready for it yet, "is pregnant," he saw three face fall into disbelief and one stiffing his lips.  
  
"One life ends, another starts," BJ was thinking. "I can't believe it," he stood up and started pacing the open space.  
  
"A child?" Charles had to confirm it.  
  
"I do believe that is the result of a pregnancy," the Father said.  
  
"What pregnancy?" a familiar voice came from the door.  
  
They were all still in their positions and they gawked at him. Their eyes were inspecting every detail of him. Their jaws were relaxed and their tongues were about to fall out. The man leaning heavily on a cane had entered hoping to get a big greeting. He had a relieved sensation, but the way he was being stared at concerned him.  
  
"What?" the man asked thinking he had interrupted something.  
  
"Is that you, Captain?" Klinger was squinting his eyes to make sure.  
  
"Uh, the last time I checked, sure," he bobbed his head. He was confused by it all. "What happened," he had a funny feeling.  
  
"We were told you were dead, son," Colonel Potter explained what they were told.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am. There just isn't any room left on this one," the sergeant was excusing the delay. "There's another one leaving in a couple of hours."  
  
"I'm suppose to be on this one!" she was very agitated. She did not want to wait at that excuse of an airport any longer than she had to.  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't make the reservations," he was intimidated by her.  
  
"Look, Sergeant, I want to get on this one. Is there any possible way to do that?"  
  
"No, there isn't any room. If I could get you on that flight I would," he meant it. She was really putting the pressure on him.  
  
She banged the table with her fist and went and sat down. She was so mad; she wanted to be home - the 4077th. She wanted to be lying in her tent in Hawkeye's arms talking about names for the baby. She was massaging her hand thinking that she just might have broken it on the wooden desk.  
  
She was in another world; her thoughts were everywhere. She was fixated on the future and the past. She wasn't sure how she was going to raise this baby on her own. She wasn't the most nurturing person in the world. She wasn't sure how her family would react, especially her father; he did not like Hawkeye when they met. Daniel said that he would help all he could, but she thought of what Hawkeye told her about his aging health. She still felt guilty for not telling Hawkeye. He was concerned that she hadn't been feeling well, but she told him that it was only the food.  
  
Then the present came to her. She had asked so much of Father Mulcahy. She wanted to get out of the little camp, but now she wanted to be there. She should be the one to tell them about the marriage and the wonderful six months they had together. The letters she was up all night writing didn't even begin to say how she cherished their friendship.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"So everyone thought I was dead huh?"  
  
"Everyone still thinks you're dead, son," Colonel Potter knew there would be a crowd in his office if they knew.  
  
"So I'm guessing that you sent that letter to my dad."  
  
"Yeah, I did," BJ told him, "it's very hard to tell someone that they lost probably the most important people in their lives."  
  
Hawkeye swallowed hard. If they sent the one to his dad, Margaret must have gotten hers too. He had to go find her. All he could think about was how soft she felt. "Where's Margaret?"  
  
Father Mulcahy's brain was spinning. Everyone else was just sorry that he missed her. They didn't know where she was going. The pictures came to mind; it was a reminder of how close the two friends were.  
  
"She's gone Captain," Klinger said.  
  
"Gone? Where?"  
  
"Home," BJ told him.  
  
"Home? This is home," was his first rational thought. It was. This was their home. Instead of having a small flat of a newly wed home, they had an olive drab tent that he didn't stay at very often, but it was where they lived and where their family was.  
  
"Margaret got discharged, Pierce," Charles broke it to him.  
  
Hawkeye jumped up as fast as his leg would let him. Worry came over him; he couldn't think why she would have gotten discharged. "Discharged? In two days! How?"  
  
"Pierce, calm down," Colonel Potter tried to settle him.  
  
"When?" he was enraged. She just upped and left. He wondered how she could do such a thing, granted she had become a widow in three days, but just to leave and so quickly; how long had she had that planned? He thought things were fine; they were happy.  
  
"Just this morning," Charles answered him.  
  
"She's probably in Tokyo by now," BJ added.  
  
"Hawkeye, there is something you must know. Maybe you better sit down for this," Father Mulcahy advised him after thinking how he would react.  
  
Hawkeye took the Father's advice. He did it slowly. His leg was hurting with his blood flowing faster than normal and he was angry, worried, and confused. He wanted to know what the Hell was going on with his wife.  
  
"Hawkeye," he looked the scared man square in the face, "Margaret is pregnant."  
  
Hawkeye's stiff eyes began blinking fast. He was making sure he wasn't dreaming. Mulchay was still giving him a sincere look of honesty. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. "P.p.preg-nant?" he swallowed the word.  
  
"Yes, Hawkeye. That's why she's going home - to the states," the priest was still sharing a stare with him.  
  
"Pregnant," he said it again. "I don't believe this. A baby," he was coming to grip the idea. "Oh, I think I need to sit down." He, of all people, he was going to be a parent - a father.  
  
"Hawk, you are sitting down," BJ stated it to him. He was taken back by the news, but Hawkeye seemed to be having a bit more trouble seeing the reality of it.  
  
"I told her it wasn't the food. I should have known she was lying," he jolted up ranting.  
  
"Son, I'm sure she just wanted to be sure. She only went to Seoul and found out the day you left," Colonel Potter told him.  
  
"The day I left?!" thoughts were racing through his head. "Pregnant," he said again after a pause in a high squeaky voice.  
  
The men in the office knew they were close friends, but they were a shocked by Hawkeye's reaction to the situation. He was acting very strangely. They thought it might be the shock of everything that happened and the news. Time and time again he would stand up for her when she was behaving armyish. Perhaps he knew who the father was or hurt that he didn't.  
  
"When did she leave?" he figured Mulcahy knew the whole story by the way he was looking at him.  
  
"About two hours ago, Hawkeye," he broke it to him, "but her flight to Tokyo would have left already."  
  
Hawkeye stormed out of the office as fast as the cane would let him. He had an angry, concentrated look on his face. He knew exactly what he was going to do. The men ran after him; that look concerned them. He was determined and nothing was going to stop him - they could see it like they have seen it so many times before. Only this time it was more serious.  
  
"Pierce, what in Sam Hill do you think you're doing!?!" Colonel Potter yelled as he went outside to see the younger man hobble himself into an empty jeep.  
  
"Father, you're driving," Hawkeye figured he was the only one of them that understood.  
  
"Padre you get in that jeep, and."  
  
"Sorry Colonel," Father Mulcahy got in and started it not wanting to know what would happen to him or to Hawkeye.  
  
"What are you doing, Hawk?" BJ couldn't understand it.  
  
"I'm going to Tokyo!" he yelled back as they drove away.  
  
"Did he just say he was going to Tokyo?" Klinger asked.  
  
"What just happened?" Charles couldn't understand what was going on.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
Everything was green except the pink blossoms of the trees. They made light shadows of the bright moonlight. The stars shone down with excitement; they were so full and bright. The path was soft to the touch; the grass felt liked smooth velvet. In the middle of the garden there was a gazebo. It was white and elegant with Japanese architecture mixed with the romance of Italian. The curves were lined with light pink and blue streaks.  
  
They were dancing. They could hear and feel each other's breaths and heartbeats. His hair was so soft in between her fingers. They held one another close; they seemed like one. His hands were around her waist and hers were around his neck and back. The music changed; a bassinet of the same coloring of the gazebo appeared in front of them. It was welcomed and accepted with joy. It rocked back and forth peacefully. They looked to see under the lace cover. The lace flew up and over the back; inside there was nothing. The little basket morphed into an operating table.  
  
A faceless man, who was barely a man, was wounded. He had a large open belly wound. Their lovely clothing was replaced by surgical gowns. There was blood everywhere. It was on the ground, the trees, the gazebo, the operating table, it was on them. They were doing all they could to save the man. She was struggling to keep up with him. He was going so fast. He started going faster than she could keep up. He started dissolving. He was going backwards. She couldn't move to follow him. The patient was gone with him. Her feet wouldn't move. She couldn't do anything to go with him.  
  
She stayed there standing, unable to move. The patient was in front of her again, but it wasn't the faceless man, it was him. He wasn't breathing and his heartbeat was nothing; he was dead. The bassinet reappeared next to the operating table. She was between them. She so wanted to stay with him, but a baby from the cradle began screaming for attention.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Hawkeye, are you alright?" Father Mulcahy noticed that he was very pale. The drive had been very quiet and fast. He wasn't sure what time her flight out of Tokyo was to leave and he knew that Hawkeye would have the incentive to go find her.  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," it took him a while. He was thinking about what she could have been thinking and going through. The thought of missing her made him queasy; he had to see at least one more time before she left. She had to know he was all right; there was no way it would work in a letter or a phone call.  
  
Him becoming a father was another looming thought. Sometimes he acted so childish himself, how was he going to be a good father? He still wasn't used to the whole idea and he hated the fact that Margaret would be going back to the states without him. Countless times he heard BJ hurting about missing out on Erin; he didn't want that. He wanted to be there for everything. He didn't want her to go through it all alone.  
  
"Do you think we'll find her, Father?"  
  
"I don't know, Hawkeye. You might be able to catch her in Tokyo, but she could already be in Hawaii. I do know that you two will work it out. When Margaret told me all that you two have been through, I felt rather naive for not noticing it. She loves you very much."  
  
"I know, Father," he felt pride and relief by what the Father had said. He loved her very much too.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
"Ma'am?" a green private really didn't want to wake her. "Major?" he nudged her shoulder.  
  
"Huh?" the images were gone. The emotions it brought were still there. "Oh," she sighed. She had fallen asleep against the wall where the bench was cornered. The first sleep she had had in almost four days, and she has a nightmare. Massaging her forehead helped a little. The whole thing brought a chill through her bones. "What is it, Private?"  
  
"The plane's ready to go, ma'am."  
  
"Are you sure there's room?" she said spiteful. "Sorry Private, it's been a long few days."  
  
"Better hurry, ma'am," he wanted to avoid any awkward moments.  
  
She bobbed her head in agreement and grabbed her bags and suitcase. She wished she was already in Maine. She didn't want to have to wait at every grungy airport she was laid-over at.  
  
"Do you want some help, Major?" the private saw her struggling with her luggage.  
  
"No, thank you. I think I got it," she situated her purse between her fingers. It was easier to keep them where she had them than it would be for him to take some of them. She went out the door to the plane and let a private put her luggage in for her. All she had in her hands were her purse a small over the shoulder bag and the Life magazine she planned on reading again on the plane.  
  
"Hey buddy," Hawkeye addressed the sergeant at the desk.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Has a blonde nurse been through here? She's a major."  
  
"Voice that would curl your toes, legs that don't stop, and lips that twitch when she's angry, she just left."  
  
"Is this plane going to Tokyo?" he didn't really enjoy hearing his description of her, but that's who she was.  
  
"Yes, sir, but."  
  
"You mean she hasn't left yet?" Father Mulcahy caught up to the conversation.  
  
"No, she just boarded," he watched the taller man walk away from him. He was almost running, but he was having difficulty with the cane. "Wait, you can't go back there. Passengers only!"  
  
Hawkeye ignored the young sergeant. He could see her luggage being loaded onto the plane. His came was slowing him down. He got the attention of the guy that was removing the steps from the side of the plane.  
  
"Are you a passenger?" he asked not wanting to leave anyone on the landing strip, again.  
  
"Yes, yes I am," he knew that was his only hope. "Am I too late?"  
  
"No sir, but you better hurry, the pilots are getting ready to take off," he opened the door for him.  
  
Hawkeye zipped in. He surveyed the seats to find her. He searched for any glimpse of her blonde hair. There she was in a seat next to a window by herself. She was staring out the porthole not particularly focused on anything. He could tell by her face how exhausted she was; her cheeks were pale and her eyes had the makings of lines under them. She was so beautiful. He slowly sat next to her. She was oblivious to him. "Is this seat spoken for?"  
  
She quickly turned to the voice. She thought she might have imagined it. The face matched the voice. Her thoughts were bungled up with disbelief. She didn't care; she stretched her arms around his neck and clenched to him. He was real; she could feel his arms around her. He was soaking her in; she was warm and her hair smelled so sweet.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
Father Mulcahy was driving back to camp. He had walked outside just to see Hawkeye get on the plane. He was very relieved; he knew they had to see each other before she left. Now all he had to worry about was how to explain everything to Colonel Potter.  
  
He had talked to both Margaret and Hawkeye on the telephone before he left Seoul. They told him to try and explain everything he could and go ahead and give them their letters. He drove along with a content smile on his face trying to think the best way to start.  
  
He saw four determined men fly out of the mess tent. Charles and Colonel Potter looked mad (the elder man looked like his face was going to explode). Klinger and BJ were more confused and concerned. He should have told Hawkeye to tell them himself.  
  
"YOU had better have a damned good excuse!" The Colonel had his finger up.  
  
"Colonel, perhaps we better go somewhere a bit more private," the entire camp was watching the Father get drilled.  
  
Everyone, by now, knew that Hawkeye was alive. They wanted to see him in the flesh and congratulate him on being alive. They were also curious about Major Houlihnan; they were told that she had resigned and was on her way home. The nurses weren't surprised that he didn't come back; and they were glad for it. Potter led the little group inside to his office, it being the closest and most private room in the compound.  
  
"All right Father, start talking," BJ directed. He was annoyed about what was going on.  
  
"Yes well," he still hadn't figured out exactly how to start, "as I was saying this morning, Major Houlihan was discharged because she's pregnant. She very much wanted to tell you herself, but with all that had happened in the past few days, it was very difficult for her," he felt like he was giving a sermon. "She spent all last night writing these for you," he delegated them out to their owners.  
  
"This is supposed to make everything make sense?" Klinger waved his letter.  
  
"I don't know, I haven't read them. I read mine, but I don't think yours say the same," he knew they were of her true thoughts of the men that had come to be so dear to her. His was filled with thank yous and words of his kindness and understanding.  
  
"But what of Pierce?" Charles asked.  
  
"Hawkeye is in Tokyo," he didn't go much further.  
  
"He's in Tokyo?!" a few voices squealed.  
  
"Yes," he went back to Margaret. He had the entire thing plotted out, and even with Hawkeye's return it seemed the best coarse of action. "She also wrote one that is meant for all of us to hear, together," she was quite explicit about it. He cleared his throat and began on the lengthy letter.  
  
"Dear Charles, Klinger, BJ, Colonel Potter, and Father Mulcahy,  
  
It sounds like a typical beginning of a letter, but you are all very dear to me. I know I never told you, or showed it very often and I am now sorry for it. By the time the Father reads it to you, I'll be in Seoul or even perhaps Tokyo. I wanted to tell you before I left about how much all of you have meant, mean to me. You showed me friendship even when I wasn't all that friendly back.  
  
So much has happened in the last four days. I want to first apologize for my behavior, I was cold and unfeeling. We all lost a precious man, and this is going to sound selfish, but I lost even more. Hawkeye was my best friend, and I know it wasn't the friendship he and BJ shared, but he was. He helped me through some of the worst times that some of you weren't even aware of. He became my backbone during my divorce and my confidant when I needed him to be, he was also my husband.  
  
We got married in Tokyo while we were at that medical conference six months ago ~ that's why we called and requested to use our built-up R&R time. That's where those pictures that were in Hawkeye's footlocker were from. Everything was so beautiful that night and so much had happened that we couldn't wait. We decided not to tell anyone because we weren't sure how things would work out. Don't be hurt about it. With Donald we couldn't have a marriage during a war, and Hawkeye and I didn't want a marriage to become our or anyone else's friendship.  
  
I went to Seoul only minutes after Hawkeye was gone to that God forsaken aid station. That's when I found out about the baby. I was so happy and I couldn't wait to tell Hawkeye. He was always talking about our twelve unruly children running amuck at home in Crabapple Cove. I felt so horrible from keeping my suspicions a secret from him. I loved him, I still love him, I will always love him.  
  
I hope you can understand and I promise to let you know what is happening with the baby and I'll pray your home long before he or she is born."  
  
They were all shocked. They had no idea that she and Hawkeye were even seeing each other, let alone married. The line about the twelve kids broke their hearts; they could only imagine what Margaret had gone through. They all had tears. Then the realization of Hawkeye being alive came back to them. That's why he went after her and why he was so upset and in such a hurry. All they could do was sit there in silence and continue on to their own letters that were filled with more emotion and confessions of how she truly trusted and admired and treasured them.  
  
~ * ~ * ~  
  
Hawkeye and Margaret were in Tokyo. They had spent two emotional days saying hello and goodbye again. Neither wanted to let go of the other; after Hawkeye being thought dead, again, Margaret wanted him to come home with her. It wasn't going to happen. He didn't want her staying either; there was too much that could happen to her and the baby.  
  
They took a wonderful walk, filled with lots of sitting due to Hawkeye's leg, through the park where the cherry blossoms were in bloom when they got married and stopped by the 24-hour chapel where they exchanged vows; other than that they didn't leave their hotel room. They were reveling in each other; they held and comforted one another. They had called Daniel, who was so relieved that he cried, Hawkeye had only seen (heard as the case may be) his father cry one other time and that was when his mom died. He was glad that Margaret was going to go stay with him; they could become better acquainted and she wouldn't have to go through the pregnancy totally alone; he would have much rather to be there himself.  
  
"I'll write to you everyday," he even planned on having some letters that didn't do with much if he was in OR and didn't have the time or energy to write one of the day. "And as soon as I get home, we're going to have that real wedding, even if it's in the delivery room," he laughed through the tears getting her to do the same.  
  
"I'm going to miss you," she was crying on his shoulder.  
  
"Me too," he didn't want to unwrap his arms from her waist.  
  
"Last call for the flight to Honolulu!" someone yelled out.  
  
She started to pull away, but she had to kiss him one more time. She could feel herself almost chocking him with her embrace. He let his arms around her again trying not to squeeze her too tight; he wanted to hold her closer, but he didn't want to do anything that may affect the baby. They finally pulled out of it when they noticed that everyone was gone for the plane.  
  
"I love you. Don't you dare do anything heroic over here," she strictly warned him. She had lived two days as a widow, and she did not like it one bit.  
  
"I promise," he kissed her. "I love you, too. And you too," he gently placed his hand on her stomach. "Now go, before I hug you again," he said with a sad making of a smile.  
  
She ran up to the plane and blew him one last kiss. Tears were streaming down her face and she could see the reflection of his on his cheeks. She memorized his features; she wished the cane wasn't there and that he was coming with her. The only thought that consoled her as she took her seat was that he would have Colonel Potter, Charles, Klinger, Father Mulcahy, and especially BJ to be his family in her absence. 


End file.
